Two years ago, Bob Joseph bought a two-cylinder French Panhard, which has positively no area in front for a license plate. He has been driving it with only the rear plate.
On consecutive days recently he received two citations. A new law went into effect in October requiring cars to have both plates, and it is being enforced. He explained ineffectively to the officers that the dealer sold him the car with only one plate.
He went to the Traffic Fines Bureau at 810 Wall St., where a courteous marshal showed him the nice new law and advised him to go to the Motor Vehicle Department at 35th and Hope Sts. and get new plates.
He did, then asked where he could put the one in front. The man there saw no possibility and directed him to the Highway Patrol at 4th and Vermont.
There he retold his sad tale. An officer circled the car, looking for a spot to put the front plate. When he came up with nothing Bob asked, "What do you suggest?"
"Sell it," the officer said.
for today's game is about even. First SC students swiped a UCLA air horn, which was returned. Then UCLA students put a blue paint coating on Tommy Trojan, the SC statue. Then four SC students put a red paint job on UCLA's Founder's Rock but were caught swiping two banners. An SC student policing group has curtailed their privileges.
When getting on a bus that
The avoirdupois I long
Is then a joy, a thing
As past the fatter forms
traditional and inevitable that reporters, who write the news stories, and copy readers, who edit and put heads on them, should quibble. Reporters contend copy readers destroy their lilting prose. Copy readers accuse reporters of slaughtering the language. They went at it again the other day.
A rewrite man turned in a story about a W 8th St. liquor store holdup in which a case of Scotch was stolen. The reporter, obviously a naive fellow, identified it as "Hague and Hague" instead of Haig and Haig.
A surly copy reader asked him, "Are you sure it wasn't a case of Holland gin?"
latest Desert Rat Scrap Book, all about good Injuns, Harry Oliver tells of a party of tourists visiting some Indian ruins in a desolate section of Arizona. To get to them they had to leave their cars and walk.
En route, a woman exclaimed, "Gracious, I forgot to lock the car!"
"Don't worry," the Indian guide said, "there isn't a white man within 50 miles."
IT MAY BE
comforting to know that the Health Department is watching over you, even if you don't care.
Bob Martin received a notice the other day that his dog Concho had been quarantined for 14 days as a rabies suspect. Puzzled, he phoned County health and asked why. "Because he bit you," he was told.
Then Bob remembered. Six weeks ago the dog playfully bit or scratched him on the leg. About a week ago the sore looked infected and Bob stopped at Hollywood Receiving Hospital, where a doc put a bandage on it. He also turned in a dog-bite report which went to Central, then to County health, then to Burbank, where Bob lives, and boom -- quarantine for Concho.
Meanwhile, the wound was healed.
It was a big week for bird watching. In addition to the usual sparrows, towhees, blue-jays, juncoes and flickers, four stately quail, a long absent thrush, the first robin of fall and a yellow-breasted number tentatively identified as a MacGillivray's warbler visited the back yard. That's what it states in Ernest Sheldon Booth's "Birds of the West" -- MacGillivray's warbler . . . Councilman Ransom Callicott, chatting with a friend about car mileage, remarked, "Five gallons of gas is just a light lunch for my car."